


that hollowed space between your bones (just curl up and call it home)

by SunSparrow



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, Loosely Based On Chobits, M/M, Sexual Content, Slight humiliation kink, persocoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunSparrow/pseuds/SunSparrow
Summary: Xiaojun lets out a muffled scream into his hands. What is hedoing?He's going to get arrested and sent tojail.Everyone's going to figure out he could never afford a persocom like this.Xiaojun swallows. He might as well try him—it—out. He'll return it tomorrow.Or, Xiaojun meets the android known as Jaemin.
Relationships: Na Jaemin/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93
Collections: Challenge #4 — Awaken The World





	that hollowed space between your bones (just curl up and call it home)

_"Mom,"_ Xiaojun whines. "It's okay. I _promise."_

He scuffs his ratty shoes, ignoring the way the rubber sole threatens to separate further from the toe.

"My apartment isn't even that expensive. You know I'm an RA. They pay for practically everything."

A wet _plop_ comes from the kitchen counter, where the roof's leak has been since the landlord started ignoring his emails. Xiaojun slides a bowl underneath the drip.

"Mom, I'm sending the money and that's the _end_ of it. I love you. Make sure to take your medicine."

After a few more reassurances, pushing as much soothing persuasion into his voice as possible, Xiaojun presses "End" on his spidery-cracked phone screen.

Then he authorizes the transfer from his checking account.

* * *

The walk to the grocery store is fifteen minutes max, but Xiaojun has to plan for a week's worth of meals in that time. It's not too hard, considering he's done it before, but it is difficult to plan something he won't get tired of eating several meals in a row. He decides to splurge a little on green onion and see if there's a sale on other fresh vegetables, too.

Xiaojun yelps as a cat zips past with a high-pitched yowl, shooting out of the alleyway he was just passing. He winces, peering down the narrow alley nervously. At least it's light out, and for some reason Xiaojun's curiosity is overpowering any self-preservation he would usually feel.

He almost changes his mind when he sees a leg sticking out from behind a giant trash bin.

Breathing hard, he creeps up, phone at the ready so he can dial the local police station. He shouldn't have come out, _now he has to report a murder—_

He grits his teeth as he creeps closer, bracing himself against the sight of any blood.

But there's no blood at all. It's not even a person.

It's a persocom. A personal computer, in other words. The latest trend to revolutionize smartphones were computers built to resemble humans, to accompany and aid people during their daily routines. Xiaojun's seen the commercials; they're everywhere, on billboards, on bus stop advertisements, on television...

With a heavy sigh of relief, Xiaojun's knees buckle as he slides to the asphalt beside the human-like android. To think, someone could discard such an expensive belonging right in the middle of nowhere. He shakes his head, wiping away beads of nervous sweat he didn't even realize had formed.

He glances to the side. What a waste, really. It's clearly a higher-level model since it looks so human, no seams in its silicone skin to be seen anywhere. It's clearly abandoned, since it doesn't even have clothes. It's bundled in a pile of trash bags, its eyes staring blankly into space, dully reflecting the ambient light. 

Then Xiaojun blinks. He looks around. He's alone.

No one would know.

No one would mind, surely.

One person's trash is another's treasure.

Right?

* * *

Presently, Xiaojun is carrying a stolen persocom bridal-style up the stairs, swaying a little, his arms shaking from the effort. Although the android's frame is slim, it is incredibly heavy, speaking to the metal it is truly made of beneath the soft synthetic flesh. Xiaojun grunts, heaving it through his doorway after a momentary struggle with the key.

For lack of a better location, he sits the persocom up on his raggedy sofa, the android still clad in shiny black plastic. Xiaojun pants with exertion, slumping beside the persocom.

He massages at his sore upper arms, wishing he had time to work out. And money to buy a gym pass. And time to go to the gym. He sighs.

Xiaojun isn't rich. Not at all. He glances at his threadbare apartment, the height of unintentional minimalism. 

Xiaojun lets out a muffled scream into his hands. What is he _doing?_ He's going to get arrested and sent to _jail._ Everyone's going to figure out he could never afford a persocom like this.

"Calm down," he says to himself, taking a deep breath.

He looks over at the persocom. Now that he can properly examine it, he realizes that it really is an amazing work of art, modeled after a beautiful youth with a slim physique and narrow facial features. The boy— _persocom,_ Xiaojun mentally corrects himself—has kind-looking eyes, a pretty face.

Xiaojun swallows. He might as well try him— _it_ —out. He'll return it tomorrow.

Xiaojun kneels on the sofa beside the persocom. He carefully peels away the crinkled black plastic, revealing the lithe body of the boy beneath. Blushing, he puts a throw blanket on the persocom's lap, avoiding looking too closely as he removes the bags concealing the lower body.

He leans in, searching the persocom's face for some kind of flaw. Some kind of life.

He can find neither.

He feels... Wrong, just staring at this inert robot without its knowing. It looks so human.

Xiaojun trails his fingertips down the persocom's face, then draws away, a little ashamed and embarrassed. He should—he should turn it on. Somehow.

He looks over the persocom, searching for some sort of button. Unfortunately, he doesn't see anything very obvious. Then he remembers that the newer models have a two-part power button that must be pressed at the same time: at the base of their skull, and at the solar plexus. Xiaojun does this, uncomfortably aware of how intimate it feels, and presses. The "skin" gives a little, and Xiaojun hears a subtle click as the android's eyes shoot open, filled with warmth and life.

"Hello, I am your persocom," the handsome boy—no, persocom—says in a low, pleasing voice, his eyes quickly scanning over Xiaojun's face. "My programmed name is Jaemin, but my name can be altered as you desire, whenever you desire. What may I call you, Master?"

Xiaojun freezes, feeling his face heat up. He had never gotten used to the way some people prefer to be called "Master" by their persocoms.

"Just call me Xiaojun," he stutters uncertainly. 

"Just Xiaojun? No hyung?" Jaemin the persocom _giggles_ at the choking noise Xiaojun makes, leaning in close and saying, "I like the sound of it."

* * *

Xiaojun does not end up returning Jaemin to the alley.

In fact, he takes Jaemin with him nearly everywhere he goes, less so for any help that Jaemin can offer, and more for the actual company that Jaemin provides.

Xiaojun is curious about how much data Jaemin can store; what kind of competition that knowledge can ever present in comparison with _experience_ for artificial intelligence. Or any intelligent being, really. While Jaemin can rattle off facts about ocean life and its mysteries, he still stares in wonder at the flickering cornflower blues and rainbow-iridescent scales flitting through the watery archway of the city's largest aquarium. He laughs at the sight of an octopus squeezing like liquid through a tiny hole in the colorful, underwater obstacle course.

In these kinds of moments, Xiaojun forgets Jaemin isn't human.

In a similar vein, Jaemin has the sense of taste as a modification, and while he does not require sustenance, he enjoys tasting things. He enjoys the umami and salt of ramyun (he sits with Xiaojun at the table and tries a spoonful, but mostly watches Xiaojun eat). Most of all, Jaemin likes sweet things, like milk chocolate, fresh peaches, honey tteokbokki from the snack cart on the corner.

Xiaojun can't help but try and spoil him with these experiences, despite his meager funds.

To be fair, Jaemin does his best to help Xiaojun with his new part-time job at the grocery store, sorting inventory and placing things on the higher shelves that Xiaojun has trouble reaching. Even when Jaemin teases him about his height, Xiaojun is too endeared to protest. The manager of the store is immensely pleased with their productivity, and doesn't ask Xiaojun how he managed to afford someone like Jaemin.

It should probably be alarming: how easily Jaemin fits into Xiaojun's life.

Like he was always meant to be there.

* * *

Xiaojun does have friends other than a computer. It's just that he's always so busy.

He eventually goes over to Kun's house (basically a mansion), after several texts nagging that he "never visits," bringing Jaemin along for the ride. He's a little embarrassed at the difference between Kun's life and his, but Jaemin just squeezes his hand as they walk in.

An electrical engineer who dabbles in computer science and persocom mods, Kun is _fascinated_ by Jaemin.

"You mean he doesn't always do what you say?"

"Right, isn't that normal for AIs?" Xiaojun knits his brow in confusion.

"I mean. Not really." Kun looks over to Ten, his persocom, who raises a perfect eyebrow in response. "Ultimately persocoms are a tool for functionality and easing daily life. If they went against orders, that would be. Well. Dangerous."

Jaemin whips past on Kun's hoverboard, shrieking in delight. He narrowly misses a stand with a very fancy vase.

"Careful! Slow down, Jaemin!" Xiaojun scolds.

"But it's so fun!" Jaemin calls back, already several meters away down one of Kun's ridiculously long hallways.

"You're going to hurt someone! Or yourself!" Xiaojun reasons.

With a pout, Jaemin shifts his weight so that the hoverboard moves at a slower pace.

"Sorry," Xiaojun says, turning to Kun, but Kun only looks thoughtful.

"Ten has a personality, in as much as artificial intelligence can have one. I could program him to say 'no' a percentage of the time, but to base his choices on self-preferences, assumptions, things a human would process before making a choice... That's some sophisticated hardware your persocom is sporting. Where did you get him?"

Xiaojun shrugs. "It was some thrift store selling secondhand robots," he lies.

This time Kun's eyebrows shoot up in disbelief.

Xiaojun swallows and tries not to look too guilty.

After a moment, Kun says slowly, "I'm not going to push. But be careful with your persocom. I don't know what kind of people would try to buy him from you once they find out he's different."

* * *

_> 01110100 01100001 01110011 01110100 01100101 _

Jaemin's days feel full, his memory banks overflowing with data on Xiaojun. How he likes his coffee, black with a small piece of rock sugar from the mason jar in the center of his table. Just for the faintest hint of sweetness amidst the bitter.

_> 01110011 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 _

_> play:xiaojun_01272221.mp4_

He doesn't remember whom he belonged to before Xiaojun, but he remembers the kind eyes and careful touches when Xiaojun dressed him in his own clothes after bringing him home. He knows the sad, sour tilt of Xiaojun's mouth when he worries about his mother. He knows a hundred of Xiaojun's expressions, and he has his favorites.

_> define:enjoy[2]_

_> 2\. to take pleasure or satisfaction in_

Jaemin finds that he enjoys watching Xiaojun's expression falter, weaken, then intensify when he _wants_ something.

Jaemin notes the minute changes in Xiaojun's facial expression as Jaemin tastes a piece of rock sugar, imitating videos he's found on the internet tagged as "sensual" and "tempting." Jaemin lets the sugar crystal swirl around on his tongue, crunches down on it with his teeth.

He leans in and curls his tongue around the pads of Xiaojun's fingers where he held the piece of sugar for his coffee, projecting warmth and wetness and heat. Hotter than any human could offer. Xiaojun gasps, but pauses 3.76 seconds before pulling away.

Jaemin does not need to put words to the promises he can make, and moreover, fulfill. Xiaojun will know soon enough.

Jaemin just needs to push.

  
_> 01110100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 _

Jaemin knows the erogenous zones of the human body. He was programmed to know it, but Xiaojun seems curiously unaware of this fact. With his internal internet browser, Jaemin reviews the latest articles about sex-modded persocoms, which all advertise this feature as the most popular upgrade. Well.

Jaemin leans in, blows warm air from his synthetic "lungs" (the fan cooling off his internal processors) against the back of Xiaojun's neck. He steps back just in time for Xiaojun to yelp and jump, barely missing Jaemin's nose. Not that it would hurt, but it wouldn't do to get damaged.

Xiaojun turns and glares. Jaemin observes the way his cheeks are flushed tomato-red with embarrassment, but the 3.8mm dilation of Xiaojun's pupils speaks to his arousal.

Jaemin curls the corners of his mouth into a smile and enjoys the way Xiaojun flushes further, muttering as he gets back to his schoolwork.

* * *

"Are you sexually experienced, hyung?" Jaemin asks with an expression that is far too innocent for the words coming out of his mouth.

Xiaojun nearly spits out his water. He puts the glass down and stares at Jaemin, whose smile has turned outright devious.

"I... Why?" he ends up asking.

"Hyung," Jaemin says sweetly, standing and walking over to Xiaojun's side of the table. "I want to learn. Can you teach me?" He trails a gentle hand down Xiaojun's chest, catching on his nipple through his thin shirt, sending a jolt of pleasure through Xiaojun's body.

Xiaojun stands, backing up and stumbling until he bumps into the wall. Everything inside him is shaking, shivering, fluttering.

"I d-don't think it'll be me teaching you, to be honest," he says, stalling to keep his poor heart from beating out of his chest.

It feels like he's delaying the inevitable. Something they've been hurtling towards all this time.

Jaemin corners Xiaojun, but his hands are gentle as they clasp around Xiaojun's bony wrists. "You can teach me how to kiss. You know how to kiss, right?" Jaemin's eyes widen in mock astonishment.

"Of course I know how," Xiaojun whines, twisting his wrists in Jaemin's grip.

"Then show me," Jaemin dares, smiling.

Jaemin doesn't close his eyes either, when Xiaojun leans in to press his lips against Jaemin's, and somehow that jolt of uncertainty, of _embarrassment,_ makes Xiaojun want to try all the harder.

Then Jaemin starts kissing _back,_ blowing the learning curve—if there ever was one—out of the water. Jaemin's lips are soft, inviting, and his tongue traces the seam of Xiaojun's mouth. Startled, Xiaojun parts his lips, and Jaemin takes the invitation to delve further with his tongue, nipping with his teeth; it's _dirty,_ the way Jaemin kisses.

"Where—" Xiaojun tries to ask, before Jaemin hikes one of his legs up around his waist and grinds into him like it's his hobby, his field of expertise, easy and second nature. "Oh _fuck,"_ Xiaojun yelps, his hips bucking forward into Jaemin's steady rutting, his head banging against the wall. When did he get so hard?

Jaemin's hot breath smells like overheated wiring, but he tastes like sugar when he kisses Xiaojun. His panting breaths crowd around Xiaojun's helpless moans.

Xiaojun wraps his legs around Jaemin's slim waist, clinging on tight. Jaemin's hands are underneath him, firmly supporting his ass.

_"Jaemin."_

Xiaojun whines at the feel of the persocom's cock grinding over his, outright _moans_ at the brief, intrusive thought of Jaemin coming all over him. Owning him. Even if Jaemin is _his_ persocom.

"Bed," Xiaojun says, half-scared and half-thrilled that he might fall.

Maybe Jaemin's specced out with super-speed, or maybe Xiaojun just can't keep track of his whereabouts when he's being kissed into oblivion. Because before Xiaojun knows it, they're lying horizontally on the bed, Xiaojun landing with a soft whump on the blankets. He's drowning in Jaemin's taste, doesn't know anything but pleasure. Jaemin's dense body is heavier than Xiaojun remembers—but he should know better, recalling how he got Jaemin to his apartment in the first place. The feel of narrow hips pressing between his thighs, not bony, but firm, warm.

Xiaojun moans to feel Jaemin's arms around him, nearly crushing with his strength. "Good, it's good," Xiaojun whimpers, rutting up through his old ratty sweats into Jaemin's firm abdomen. Xiaojun feels delirious with just how much he wants Jaemin.

"I know what's better," Jaemin says in a low purr, pushing up Xiaojun's shirt and pressing kisses to his skin.

"W-what is it?" Xiaojun stutters, not quite sure why he's even asking. Jaemin looks up and raises a perfect brow, sarcastic and endeared. Lost in a haze of lust, Xiaojun dimly wonders why it's so easy for him to read a persocom's expressions over a human's. Maybe it's just because it's Jaemin. This snarky, silly, hopelessly charming persocom he befriended first and fell in love with after.

Then Jaemin pulls down Xiaojun's sweatpants, his hard cock bobbing in the air between them, soaked with pre-come. "Nice," Jaemin giggles, before swallowing him whole. Xiaojun lets out a shocked moan at the warmth, the heat, the velvety tightness and suction of Jaemin's mouth. It's better than anything he's ever felt, ever imagined, even in the occasional filthy dreams that leave him in a sweaty mess when he wakes up.

Xiaojun looks down at Jaemin's perfect lips wrapped around his wet cock, and throws his head back with a long, keening moan. Jaemin must take this as encouragement because he just sucks him in harder and deeper, buries his face into the thatch of dark hair at Xiaojun's crotch. It doesn't take long. Of course it doesn't; Jaemin's technique is perfect, and he has no gag reflex. Xiaojun comes hard, and Jaemin swallows all of it, licking up the drops of come that leak out from the sides of his mouth and down Xiaojun's softening cock.

"That was fun," Jaemin says with a smirk. "Thanks for teaching me, hyung."

Xiaojun's too close to passing out to sputter a response, but Jaemin tucks him back into his boxers and cuddles him close.

Xiaojun leans his head against Jaemin's firm chest. He listens to the soft whir of fans cooling circuit boards, almost like a heartbeat, echoing in the hollow of his metal ribs. Pretends the faint blue veins beneath his soft skin are real.

Hopes that this can last for a very long time.


End file.
